sometimes it's already found when it's lost

"SLOPPY SUMMER" is written on the left side of my left Converse All Star sneaker. My kind-of-friend wrote it last summer. He's kind of a graffiti artist, except I don't think he does it very much and I'm not sure he really cares. The soles are falling off those sneakers now.

The Coney Island Cyclone opened in June of 1927. At least three men have died on it. Necks snapping in the salty wind. A belly aching of wood and screams. Some call it terrifying, I call it Church.

Take 6 shots of whiskey and ride it next to a friend, a sort-of-friend or a stranger and I guarantee you'll feel some semblance of pure joy. Forgetting the things you needed to forget and losing something that was found all a long. 

I'm making up memories now - like one time that fits into a billion times.